


cookies

by Waywarder



Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [18]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff With Cookies, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: In which Aziraphale and Crowley decorate gingerbread men.Part of Drawlight's 31 Days of Ineffables holiday collection!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558789
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	cookies

“Decorating gingerbread! Crowley, what a lovely idea!” 

Crowley blushed a little at that, still struggling to accept that anything he could come up with should be considered “lovely.” But then Aziraphale kissed him, and well, if that didn’t always help matters rather a lot.

Aziraphale cleared away some space on a table, and Crowley set down the supplies. Fresh, little, happy gingerbread creatures from a local bakery, and assorted icings and decorative, edible odds and ends.

“This is quite charming,” Aziraphale smiled widely. “You’re quite charming.”

“Oh, decorate the bloody biscuit already.”

But first he slung an arm over the angel’s shoulder, and kissed him fondly on the top of his head.

They sat in concentrated silence, each focused on their respective gingerbread man. It’s serious business, after all, this cookie decorating. Crowley even removed his glasses to focus better. After a while, Crowley leaned over to inspect Aziraphale’s work, and grinned when he realized that the angel was in the process of piping a little bowtie on his gingerbread man.

_Game on,_ thought Crowley, suddenly fiercely festive.

So, Crowley proceeded to give his own gingerbread man little dark sunglasses, and red icing hair.

When they were both done, Aziraphale nudged the two biscuits together on the table, so that it looked as though they were holding little gingerbread hands. Crowley went off to the kitchen for a plate, and then proudly held aloft their biscuit artwork. 

_Holiday mission accomplished,_ Crowley thought, a little smugly even. 

Aziraphale clapped his hands together in delight at the sight of them. “Well, all they need now is a gingerbread house to live in together!”

And Crowley immediately dropped the plate.

“Crowley! The biscuits, dear!”

But Crowley had already stepped over the fallen cookies, and gripped Aziraphale by his shirt collar.

“Say that again, angel.”

“The biscuits!”

“No, not that! What you said before!”

“Oh,” Aziraphale frowned, trying to remember. “I said… well, I said, that now they need a gingerbread house to live in together.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head to the side in an effort to drive the point, well, _home._

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, shooting a look at the floor biscuits to suggest that they had betrayed him. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean… that is to say… well, I wouldn’t be opposed… oh, bother--”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley stepped in closer, letting his arms twine around Aziraphale’s neck. “D’you want to live together?”

“Well, I mean, you practically live here already,” Aziraphale continued to fluster. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley leaned his forehead against the angel’s. “Do you want to find our own place together?” 

“I…” Aziraphale took a deep breath. “Yes. I do want that. Very much.” 

Crowley didn’t have any words. He had dreamed this dream for months, for years, for decades, for centuries. The dream of just having Aziraphale there, of not having to invent excuses to sidle up into his space, of sharing their lives in such a tangible way… And they had just spoken their feelings aloud that same month… Was it too--

“Not too fast?” Crowley managed to murmur, closing his eyes, unable to watch if Aziraphale changed his mind.

“Darling, will you please look at me?”

Crowley opened his eyes. Aziraphale leaned back a little to better see him, and Crowley’s knees nearly buckled at the open, earnest, unbridled joy that he found in Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“Crowley, this past month of being open with one another...” Aziraphale began, and fuck, Crowley felt the tears coming on. When had he become this damn _sentimental?_ “Well, I should very much like to continue it, and it does certainly seem that the most practical course of action to that end is to begin officially sharing our living space. Don’t you agree?”

“Ooh, ‘practical.’ Romantic, angel. I’m swooning.”

But, really, he was crying a little, because of course he was.

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale pulled the demon to him, and held him tightly. “I’m tired of watching you go ‘home,’ as if that means anything anymore. You are my home, and I believe that I am yours. And I would very much like to fill up a space with plants and books and bottles of wine and with you, my dear.”

Crowley sniffled a little, and nodded. Aziraphale smiled.

“Romantic enough for you?”

“Shut up and kiss me, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I hope you're having a wonderful day!


End file.
